RAPHAEL CRUZ "A MANO"

Every once in a great while, something happens that is truly an important event. In music, as in all the arts, there is something significant and potent shout the idea of the debut. It's an almost archetypal concept: whether it's a children's piano recital, an opera diva's first role, the premiere of a movie by a new director, or the first Bob Dylan album. In jazz, there has always been a special historical emphasis on the emergence of a sideman into the role of leader. And yet we live in a world where the rush to the spotlight is often too hurried, where young wünderkinds in big suits take the center of the bandstand too early; what we often find when they get there is that they lack the authority to lead, the depth of experience needed to really control and shape the music. We also live in a world where sometimes, for whatever reason, a tremendous musical talent will remain on the sidelines for too long before taking that step. Rafael Cruz is a master percussionist who is only just now making his recording debut as leader, after nearly three decades on the bandstand. A native of the Dominican Republic, Cruz moved to New York City via Puerto Rico in the `60s with the group Raices, a Latin jazz band on Nemperor Records. Over the decades since, he's played with a staggering list of names, including Flora Purim and Airto, Astrud Gilberto, the Brecker Brothers, Ray Barretto, Herbie Hancock, Herbie Mann, Dr. John, Paquito D'Rivera, Chaka Khan (rather remarkably, he's also appeared on rock guitar god Tommy Bolin's Teaser album, singer Carly Simon's Spy, and at one time actor/pianist Harry Connick Jr. was a member of Cruz' Quintet). As if a dam was finally opened, this CD was recorded in one inspired 14-hour session that yielded nine tunes, all keepers. Kicking off with two high-octane Wayne Shorter compositions ("Footprints" and "El Gaucho"), then moving into Ray Noble's "Cherokee," Cruz leads a tight but lucid combo. Pianist Greg Murphy contributes one original, "One For The Money," with drummer Richie Gonzales sharing credit for arrangements. And just to send things completely over the top, the album closes with a wicked Latinization of Bob Dylan's "Mr. Tambourine Man" that renders the song virtually unrecognizable. In a way, the program of selections seems to evoke Cruz's numerous years as journeyman percussionist. And the lesson that all those years underscore is the real goal of Cruz's music: the important thing about this music is that it seeks to please the people, and does so on a very sophisticated level; not by patronizing and watering things down, but by giving listeners the right blend of familiar and provocative that is the very essence of jazz, and also the formula for good music, period. And that is how a self-released, self-financed record from a veteran New York-based sideman becomes one of the years finest.

Article by James Lean, 1998, CMJ.com